


The Rule of Redania

by De_muir_eyes



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Assassination Attempt(s), Castles, M/M, Prince Thomas - Freeform, Stable Boy Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/De_muir_eyes/pseuds/De_muir_eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is trying to bring the monarchy down, trying to end the reign of the royal family. When Prince Thomas' father is murdered, he is thrust into kingship. Danger lurks behind every corner, suspicion rules, and through it all, Thomas finds love with the stable boy, Newt. But class is difficult to overcome, and no one can be trusted - not even those who you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Fuck, it’s cold” whispered Thomas to himself. The vicious wind attacked Thomas, causing shivers to course through him.

It was early morning, when the sun had not yet awoken, and the moon took a silvery watch over its domain. A thin layer of frost covered the grounds of the castle, causing Thomas’ each step to crackle as it crushed the ice. Clouds hovered tentatively above, unsure whether to stay or to follow the wind. Silence pervaded the air, broken only by hurried footsteps as Thomas tried to escape the cold.

Castle Redania lay atop a cliff. Pounding water protected it on three sides; the village acted as a barrier for the fourth. Morriville was a bustling town full of traders, farmers and beautiful gardens. Dominating it was the High Chapel, sitting on top of the highest hill, commanding awe with its thousands of candles and its tall steeples. Standing from the base of the hill, they seemed to touch the sun. But its most intimidating feature was the Pope, Ava Paige: covered in garments of wealth, wielding a sceptre rumoured to have been sent from the gods, Pope Paige was every bit as fearsome as she looked. She answered only to the gods and to the king.

Thomas reached the stables just as the sun began to awaken from its slumber. He knocked loudly on the door.

“Janson! Janson! Can you open the door? It’s freezing out here!”

An incoherent mumble later and the door was unlatched by a young blond boy, hair tousled, wearing only a pair of black pants, and with bleary eyes which opened quickly once he realised who he was looking at.

“Prince Thomas! Um, hi – I, uh, wasn’t expecting you, sorry.” The boy smiled. He was probably around Thomas’ age and looked quite fit, albeit somewhat bedraggled. He wasn’t particularly muscled, but that’s not to say that he had an ounce of fat on his body. He was lean, with the outline of abs on his stomach and a mole a little way above his belly button.

“I apologise. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment decision to go for a ride. What’s your name, might I ask?”

“It’s Newt, your highness. Well, not really, it’s Isaac, but I prefer Newt, unless you prefer Isaac, your highness, in which case you should, uh, you should definitely call me Isaac.”

Thomas smiled, and Newt seemed to relax. “Newt, don’t worry about all that ‘your highness’ crap. Call me whatever you want, just not that. Seriously, anything but that.”

“Okay then,” smiled the stable boy, “what about… Tommy?” He put on a loose grey shirt and folded back the cuffs.

Thomas narrowed his eyes in jest, then nodded in acquiescence. “Tommy it is. Now, would you be willing to ride with me? I’m supposed to have someone with me to make sure I don’t get lost or run away or whatever.”

Thomas’ horse was a large black stallion named Runius, with two large white circles on his back. The horse knew Thomas almost as well as Thomas knew himself. They had had many adventures together, and riding Runius had become somewhat of a refuge for Thomas, a sanctuary from the pressures of being a prince.

Newt chose a chestnut mare called Elsine and the two boys rode out together, along the cliffs that surrounded the castle. They followed a path west, a path that Thomas knew very well. The adrenaline coursed through the prince, quickly warming him up from the cold. The wind whistling past his ears, the loud thumps of the horses’ hooves, the pounding of the waves far below them: it was all music to Thomas’ ears, a reminder that he was alive. As the path neared its completion, the two young men dismounted, laughing, and sat on the edge of the cliff. The screaming gulls below tried in vain to fight the strong wind, and were blown angrily backwards.

“You’re a really good rider Tommy.”

“Likewise. We should do this more often.”

The sun began to rise above the horizon, painting the sky in a million shades of soft oranges and pinks, purples and yellows. Newt’s face became more than a face, it became a beautiful canvas for the sun, an artwork. Tinted in a calm apricot, the face became otherworldly, divine, irresistible. The eyes mirrors, they reflected Thomas’ own cognac eyes, deep with want.

Thomas leaned in. Lips locked. A sliver of tongue, full of love. Eyes fluttered. Cheeks reddened. Newt’s hand reached around for the back of Thomas’ head, pulling him in. The kiss was perfect – full of want, full of need, full of affection. When the two finally broke away, gasping for air, they smiled.

“You’re damn right, we should do this more often.”

 

***

 

When they arrived back at the stables, Janson was waiting for them, a scowl on his face.

“Boy! You think you can just take a horse like that? Most of the stalls haven’t been mucked and the horses are hungry, but you think it perfectly acceptable to ride away from your chores, huh? You’re damn lucky that I haven’t thrown – “

“Janson, I ordered him to come with me. You know how it is, I can’t go anywhere without a bodyguard or two.”

“Very well, your highness.” The stable master bowed. “Now, boy, you’ve got twice the chores to do, and if they don’t get done, you don’t get fed.”

Shooting a conspiratorial glance towards Thomas, Newt trudged inside.

“You best be off, your highness. You wouldn’t want to keep your father waiting.”

Thomas heeded Janson’s advice and made off towards the castle. The frost was now melted, and his boots quickly became wet.

Redania Castle towered above him, its high walls built for defence. The banners with the family crest, a red wolf whose tongue was a long and green snake, hung on the walls. The grey stone of the castle had stood for hundreds of years and would presumably stand for many hundreds more. A few guards patrolled the walls, always ready for an attack, despite the peace that had held for many years. Tensions were high, and the pope had divined omens that seemed to foreshadow war. There was a general sense of impending doom amongst those in castle, a feeling that war, when it arose, would be unavoidable.

The Great Hall was where council was held, and it was expected that both Thomas and Teresa, his twin sister, would attend. Thomas was technically born first, and thus was first in line to the throne, a fact Teresa didn’t rue in the slightest. Ruling was no simple matter – being a princess was. Their mother had passed away at childbirth. Having twins was never easy.

Atop a grand throne sat the king, Thomas’ father. Clothed regally, he was deep in conversation with Jorge, the head of the councillors. Teresa was holding hands with Aris, the newest councillor. His father had recently died in his sleep, and Aris had been announced as the successor. Teresa and he had been courting for several months, and their relationship seemed destined for marriage very soon.

The last councillor, Frypan, was the cook employed for many years by the king, and so trusted, that he was announced as councillor, despite being of peasant blood. The three councillors together made the councillate, whose advice greatly influenced the king’s decisions.

“Alas, Thomas, you’re late, best take your seat.” Frypan added a wink. He didn’t take these meetings quite so seriously as the other members of the councillate.

“Now that everyone’s here, it seems we can begin.” The councillors took their seats to the right of the king, Teresa and Thomas took theirs to the left of him.

“I would like to discuss the taxing of shoe-makers. I believe it is too high, and generates too little revenue to justify the high rate.”

Thomas began to zone out. The affairs of a king seemed so often petty and pointless. His father was neither wise nor fair – nor unwise, nor unfair. He did his job and fulfilled his duties, no more, no less. And even that seemed intolerable to Thomas.

“The fact is that shoe-makers are already clamouring to protest against the monarchy.” The king took a sip of his water. “I wish to prevent that at all costs.”

Jorge stood up. “The councillate agrees that in order to protect the peace, taxes ought to be lowered for shoe-makers.”

“Excellent. Well then let it be recorded that the tax for shoe-making shall be lowered to –“

“Ten percent” offered Jorge.

The king did not hear him. His eyes bulged and his nose flared, and his throat seemed to convulse. He opened his mouth and white foam fell out, onto his lap. A scream escaped his throat, a scream of pain and fear, as the veins in his forehead throbbed, and his face turned blue.

Teresa screamed beside Thomas, as Frypan rushed up to the throne to help the king. Jorge discreetly threw up beside his chair.

“It’s the water!” screamed Aris. “The fucking water’s poisoned!” He ran up and grabbed the goblet from which the king had sipped, throwing it before the throne, where it spilled its contents.

“Your majesty, can you hear me? Answer me please!” pleaded Frypan, to no avail. The king stood up, clutching his throat, eyes wide with horror, mouth continuing to spill foam.

Teresa turned in to Thomas just as their father collapsed to the floor, dead. Her sobs rocked her body, and soon Thomas lost himself in his grief.

“The king is dead,” murmured Jorge, soullessly, “long live the king.”


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas was scared to get out of bed – scared of what the day would bring, scared of what he knew was to come. The banners on the castle walls had been rolled up out of respect for the king, the village had been notified of the passing of their ruler, but now it was time for the next great king to be presented. Except that the king didn’t really want to be presented. He wanted to go horse riding with Newt, he wanted to kiss the beautiful blond, he wanted to cuddle with him as waves crashed below them. Yet here he was, expected to act a king, to be the saviour that everyone expected him to be. Not only that, he was expected to act as if his father hadn’t just been murdered. It was ludicrous.

“Good morning, your highness!” called Alby, Thomas’ manservant, as he opened the curtains. The streaming light hit Thomas in the eyes, and he held a hand up to shield them.

“I was told to wake you up bright and early – we don’t want you missing your own coronation!” The black-skinned man flashed a smile which Thomas did not return. “I understand that yesterday was a, ah, a difficult day for you. But these things happen. You’re the king now, and you have to act like it.”

“Alby, fuck _off_! These things don’t just… _happen_! I mean, what the hell would you know about your father being, being fucking pois – look, just fu- Please just go away! You can’t just walk in and pretend everything’s just fine Alby. Now leave.”

“Yes, your highness.” Alby had noticed the tears in Thomas’ eyes.

Sobs wracked Thomas’ body, audible sobs which he tried to stifle with a pillow. His tears wet the pillow, salty, and he gripped it with all his might, screaming into it. This was bullshit – he wasn’t old enough for this. His father should still be alive. He didn’t _want_ to be king. He considered running away – but where to? Everyone knew his face. It was hopeless.

“Your clothes are on the chest of drawers!” shouted Alby cheerfully from another room.

Thomas pulled the pillow from his face. There were wet spots where his mouth and eyes had been. He spied the clothes and resolved to get it over and done with. They were beautifully crafted clothes, made no doubt specifically for this day. Fine leather pants, a light purple shirt and a flowing, fur-lined red cape. After he had put them on, he looked himself up and down in the mirror. Hair a bit messy, eyes still red, he was nevertheless an extremely handsome boy – now a king.

Frypan had made a hearty breakfast, with roasted tomatoes, eggs and bread. He had also given Alby a note for Thomas:

‘See you there, Thomas. I’m sorry that this is so soon, I tried to make it later.

Your friend, Frypan’

 

***

 

The Great Chapel was wild with excitement. It had been thirty years since the last coronation, and very few public celebrations had garnered much attention since then. Most of Morriville had lined the streets, lined the upper stories of the Great Chapel, lined the steps where Thomas would re-emerge a king, all to get a glimpse of the man that would lead them. People of all professions were there: farmers, traders, smiths, even the occasional beggar. The trumpets blasted, heralding the arrival of the soon-to-be-king. The crowds moved apart, guided by the guards, making way for Thomas, for the boy with the red cape.

Escorted by five guards, Thomas made his way through the commoners. They tried to touch him, to feel the grandeur of his cape, to pat him on the head. He would have allowed it, but the guards were not so permitting. Instead he smiled dumbly to the adoring public who had no idea who he truly was. He was no king, just some scared kid in a king’s costume. The doors of the Great Chapel were wide open, ready to swallow him. As he walked in, the trumpets died down, the thousands of people gathered hushed, and the guards left him.

It was just him and the long walk to the front, where Pope Paige awaited him with the crown. Each step was torturously slow, unbearably loud. The marble floors of the Great Chapel were black and white, and seemingly endless. As he neared the middle, Thomas spotted Newt sitting next to Janson, smiling at him. He flashed a quick, uneasy smile back, which earned him a wink, and earned Newt an angry nudge in the ribs from Janson. Further up sat Minho and Gally, two of Thomas’ best friends from early childhood. Brenda, Teresa’s handmaid, sat next to Minho. At the front sat Teresa and the members of the councillate. Teresa flashed a sad smile at Thomas, probably the only person to understand his pain. She grasped Aris’ hand and clutched it, looking for comfort.

Finally, Thomas stood at the front, staring at the beautiful crown in the Pope’s hands. Made of gold, encrusted with red rubies and one green emerald in the middle, it was sparkling.

“Thomas of Redania Castle, you have been called here by the divine gods.” Pope Paige’s voice rang out in the Great Chapel, bounced of the marble floor, glided to the top. “By the inherent bloodline you possess, you were chosen for kingship. You were brought to this world to become its leader. Do you accept this?”

Thomas met her gaze. “I do.”

“And do you commit to the equal treatment of all, be they peasant or nobleman?”

“I do.”

“Do you commit to protecting this land from outsiders who would claim it for their own?”

“I do.”

“Do you submit to the gods, who guide our every step?”

“I do.”

“Do you commit to this crown, whose power shall be your own?”

“I do.”

The Pope ceremoniously placed the crown on Thomas’ head, the stark green emerald facing the front. Then, with her sceptre, she gently touched his chest, right where his heart was rapidly beating.

“Long live the king!” she cried.

“Long live the king!” echoed the crowd, filling the Great Chapel with a roaring noise.

“Long live the king.” mumbled Thomas.

 

***

 

A great banquet was held after the coronation, which most of the workers at the castle attended, including Newt. Thomas was at the head of the table, but invited Newt to sit closer to him, so at least they could make eye contact throughout the evening. It couldn’t be known that the king was infatuated with a mere stable boy. Was he infatuated? He certainly found Newt very good looking. And they had clicked together perfectly when they were riding. _Perhaps I am infatuated_ , thought Thomas.

When the feasting was finished, most guests went their own ways, and Thomas and Newt finally had an opportunity to speak together. They sat in an alcove, partially hidden from most of the remaining guests.

“You’re very brave, Tommy. I don’t know anyone who could just pretend like yesterday didn’t happen and carry on.” Newt’s eyes were adoring.

“I’m not, though. How am I supposed to forget my father dying in front of me? I mean, I hate this ‘kingship’ stuff. I don’t want to be what other people look up to. I just want to be me, you know, and go riding and no one cares. I want to live my life without other people even caring about it – I… I want to be with you, Newt.”

“D’you – really?”

Thomas nodded. Newt peered around to see if anyone was watching and spied Aris looking directly at him.

“Look, Tommy, if you want to go riding, why don’t you go riding? You’re the king after all, you have final say.”

“It’s not that easy, people will want to come with me, people that I don’t want coming. I only want you to come with me. I want to be alone with you, Newt.”

“Oh.” Newt smiled. No one had ever wanted to be alone with him before. “Do you want to know where I learnt to ride?” After a nod from Tommy, Newt continued. “My mum stole a horse once, when she was a beggar. I was only seven. She brought it to me and lifted me onto it, and told me to ride it. It didn’t even occur to her that I had no idea how. But the guards came looking for her, so she hit the horse on the rump, so that it would run, and then hid herself. She told me to come to Morriville, and that she would meet me here. Well, the guards found her, and they took her in. They jailed her. Or killed her. I don’t know. But meanwhile, I had no idea where Morriville was, so I rode, and I rode, and I rode, until I came to a circus.”

“A circus?”

“A circus. And they took me in, and taught me how to ride a horse, and taught me how to do tricks on a horse. And so I travelled with the circus, going from village to village, city to city, until one day they said that we were going to Morriville. I left the circus when I came here, and found a job with old Janson.”

“And then I met you.”

“And then you met me.” Newt stared into Thomas’ eyes, thick with lust and longing. _And then I fell in love_ , thought Newt.


	3. Chapter 3

“The king’s death was no accident, and as such, is being heavily investigated. However, no one saw anything or anyone suspicious, and we could not trace where the king got his water from. We may assume that it was one of the servants, but even that is not certain. What we do know is that it was someone already inside the castle – we have a traitor somewhere inside the castle. Now, your majesty, is there someone who you have noticed has recently come to the castle?”

Thomas looked at Jorge. The older man seemed not to have slept well. “Someone who has recently come to the castle?”

“That’s right.”

Newt. Newt had recently come to the castle. “No, no one.”

“Are you sure?” This time it was Aris who had spoken, with a leer on his face. Newt had mentioned to Thomas last night that they were being watched. Thomas stared Aris in the eyes, refusing to be bullied.

“Yes, I’m sure. I have less reason to hide anything than most.”

“And besides, we don’t even know if it was someone recently come. The traitor could have been here for years, biding their time. Now don’t hassle the man.” Thomas looked at Frypan gratefully.

“The councillate shall adjourn for further discussion,” said Jorge, “but watch out for yourself, Thomas. Be only with those whom you trust. Whoever killed your father, you too will be on their hit list. Be careful, for the sake of the kingdom.” And with that, the councillors left.

Thomas wandered over to the throne and sat on the grand chair. It was crafted not of wood, but of stone, white and pure, and adorned with the family crest. It was admittedly uncomfortable to sit on, but it comforted Thomas to know that this was where his father sat, this was where his father ruled from. This was something that Thomas knew how to do, this was something that made Thomas feel like a genuine king. His father had never prepared him for this role, yet fulfil it he must.

Teresa wandered into the Great Hall, eyes bloodshot. As hard as Thomas felt the pain of losing his father, at least he had something to distract him from it. Teresa had nothing.

She slowly walked up to the throne and sat on one of its arms, next to Thomas. They embraced, and she started to cry again. The tears ran from her eyes, down to her nose and silently dripped onto Thomas from there. They mingled with his own tears, creating a pool of grief.

“Why, why did this have to happen, Tom? We did nothing wrong.” After a few more sobs, she continued. “I want him back Tom. I want it to be how it was before. Everything’s fucked.”

“You’ve always got me.”

“Yeah, well, be careful Tom. I can’t lose you too.”

 

***

 

“I’m going out, Alby. Can you tell Frypan that I might be late for dinner?”

“Certainly, your majesty.” The dark skinned man bowed his head.

“And look, Alby, I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. You were just telling me what I needed to hear, but… I guess I was scared to hear it.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Alby looked far from appeased, but Thomas decided that there was no more that he could do about it. He was going into Morriville, to the Great Chapel, to see his good friends Minho and Gally. Minho was a trainee priest, and thus could not leave the Great Chapel. Gally had become a guard, and had asked for leave to meet up with Thomas.

Thomas wore a brown hooded cloak so as to cover his face and avoid recognition amongst the townspeople. He met Gally out the front of Castle Redania, and the two travelled to the Great Chapel from there. They met Minho and sat down on one of the balconies.

“How nice is that crown, man? If it was me, I’d wear it everywhere I went.”

Thomas smiled at Minho. The three had known each other since they were very young kids. The fathers of the other two were both noblemen, and so it had been deemed fit that the three children played together. This continued until their teenage years, when they had each gone their separate ways – Gally to the barracks, Minho to the Great Chapel, Thomas to the castle. They remained great friends nonetheless.

“Was it super heavy, because it looked frickin’ heavy.” Gally was the oldest and most heavy-set of the three. Thick eyebrows, already growing stubble, he looked like a guard should.

“It was a bit big, to be honest. I was kind of scared that it was going to fall down onto my nose and I’d look like an idiot.”

“You don’t need an oversized crown to look like an idiot, your face does the job just as well,” said Minho with a smile. He was a month younger than Thomas, with a thin face and a wide smile. His hair was straight and black, and he had a nose piercing, a silver stud shining in the sunlight.

They all laughed together, forgetting the shit that was going on around them.

“But guys, something actually exciting happened yesterday.” Minho looked very serious.

“As opposed to the extremely boring event of Thomas becoming ruler of the kingdom,” smiled Gally.

“You know that Brenda girl sitting next to me yesterday.” The others nodded. “She’s Teresa’s handmaid, yeah? Anyway, she asked me on a date.”

“Dude, seriously? Good goin’, man!”

“I can’t wait to tell Teresa, she’ll flip!” Thomas knew that Teresa had been trying to set Brenda up with some other guy for ages.

Minho laughed. “Anyway, the date’s tomorrow, and I explained to Pope Paige, and she said that I can even leave the Great Chapel! What should we do?”

Thomas smiled to himself. “Go horse riding.”

 

***

 

Thomas almost regretted his decision to visit Newt. Despite the beautiful sunshine that reigned as he left the Great Chapel, it was raining heavily as Thomas got to the stables. He hurriedly rapped on the door, and was immediately thankful when it was Newt who opened the door. His clothes were drenched, and there were puddles of water at the bottom of his boots. He sidestepped a bemused Newt to get out of the rain. He was shivering.

“Janson’s gone out, so it’s just us here.”

Thomas’ teeth were chattering.

“Do you want to get changed, Tommy? You’re freezing. Sit near the fire.”

Thomas obeyed. His clothes were dripping and he took off his usually white, now see-through, shirt. His muscles rippled as he tried to combat the shivers that races through him. He always ensured that he did enough exercise to give him a six-pack. His pectoral muscles were well defined, his nipples hardened by the cold.

“Take off your boots, Tommy, they’ll dry by the fire.”

A puddle fell out of the boots when Newt took them off Tommy and tipped them upside down. Thomas’ black pants were also soaked form the rain, and Newt smiled as he knelt down and undid the laces that held the pants up. A none-too-subtle brush against Thomas’ member widened his eyes. Thomas stood up so that Newt could slide the pants off and place them on a drying rack in front of the fire. He was now left in just his grey undergarments, which were struggling to contain his rapidly growing member.

“Oh look, they seem to be drenched too. Best to take them off and let them dry, hmm?” Newt smiled as he pulled down the underwear slowly, revealing Thomas’ hardon. When the underwear was completely off he put it too on the drying rack, and Thomas sat back down on the chair, just beginning to feel a bit warmer, despite his nakedness.

Newt walked back over to him and knelt between his legs. Thomas bent down to kiss him, and he could feel that this time, Newt was ravenous. He was attacking Thomas’ lips relentlessly, biting lightly, always hungry. A hand strayed down to Thomas’ cock and grasped it, began to slowly pump it. The pleasure was immense; Thomas angled his head up, and Newt began to kiss his neck. The kisses and nips moved slowly down, touching his collarbone. The pumping hand began to move faster, and Thomas moaned. Newt’s lips moved to the nipples, sucking on them lightly, then further to the rippling six-pack, which was tensed in pleasure.

Finally, Newt moved down to the pulsating cock which his hand was steadily working on. It was beautiful, with a pink head and a sliver of pre-come leaking out. A tongue snaked out and hungrily licked up the sticky stuff.

Thomas looked down just in time to see Newt swallow the head of his cock. It felt so fucking good, and he gasped at the warmness surrounding the cock. Newt went deeper, letting the throbbing cock fill his mouth. He then pulled off, looking up at Thomas with big eyes full of lust, and leaned up to kiss the king again. Once he had had his fill, he moved back down, taking the cock in his mouth and moving further down, until it was down it throat and he had his nose stuffed in the trimmed hair on Thomas’ navel. He continued to suck and move his head. Taking the cock the whole way, and moving his tongue in fiendish ways that Thomas couldn’t believe, Newt grabbed Thomas’ balls and played with them in his hand.

The pleasure was so incredible, so huge that Thomas couldn’t take it anymore. “Newt, I’m going to -“

It was too late. Newt had grabbed his balls hard and Thomas couldn’t resist. His cock exploded into Newt’s mouth. Newt wasn’t taken by surprise and was ready. Thomas’ load was thick and sticky and coated the inside of Newt’s willing mouth. He swallowed as much as possible, trying not let any escape.

When he sensed that the cock was flaccid, he let it flop out of his mouth. Thomas was beaming radiantly, and he bent down for another, slower, more peaceful kiss. His hands roamed the back of Newt’s head, feeling the silky blond hair. _Fuck_ that was good. He never wanted to go back to the castle now. He just wanted to stay with Newt, forever, in love, making love. He wanted to spend the night here, sleeping with Newt by the fire, warmer than he had ever been in his life. He wanted to announce to the world that he was in love with this boy, this _peasant boy_ , whose mother was a beggar. He wanted to tell _Newt_ that he was in love with this peasant boy.

“Newt, I… I love you.” He suddenly felt regret as he heard Newt’s breath catch in his throat. After a pause which seemed to last several hours to Thomas, he heard a whisper in return.

“I love you too, Tommy. I really love you.”


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had set and the rain had passed when Thomas returned to the castle. He was well aware that it was late and there would be questions regarding his whereabouts, but he didn’t care. It had been worth it.

Aris and Frypan were eating in the Great Hall when he entered.

“How good of your majesty to return.” Aris had his eyebrows drawn and a scowl upon his face, and Frypan looked none too pleased either.

“I apologise sincerely. I was out riding and got caught in the rain, so I sought shelter and waited for the showers to pass.” Thomas was almost proud of the excuse.

“Whatever the excuse, it does not suffice. This is _inexcusable_. You are the king, and you need to act like it, dammit! We feared you had been killed.”

“That’s very touching, Councillor Aris, but I assure you, I am quite safe.”

“Thomas,” began Frypan, “We don’t want to burden you with a bodyguard. But should another incident like this occur, we’ll deem it necessary to know that you are safe.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now I’ve made roasted beef with potatoes and carrots, and a nice apple crumble for dessert, so why don’t you grab some for yourself?”

Thomas was glad the interrogation was over. It had been worse than he had expected. He grabbed a plate full of the fragrant food and sat down next to Aris. The food was enjoyable; the company less so, especially when Frypan left.

“Don’t think that I don’t know about you and your peasant boyfriend.”

Thomas froze for a second, then continued to eat as if he hadn’t heard anything.

“If he continues to be a threat to your security and the security of the kingdom, he will have to… disappear.” Thomas gulped, but continued to ignore Aris. “Good night, your majesty.”

And with that Aris strode off, leaving Thomas to his dinner.

 

***

 

­­­Thomas was outside, underneath the thousands of stars, bright, shining, guiding him towards his destiny. They all twinkled, smiling at him. He walked towards the brightest star, which seemed to be getting bigger and more beckoning the closer he walked to it. The ground was wet from rain, but his bare feet remained dry. He kept running, past the castle, to the stables. Runius, his horse, was waiting for him, and Thomas mounted the graceful creature. The star was getting bigger now, its light engulfing the other stars in the sky. He rode Runius hard, trying to get to the star as quickly as possible. It was getting brighter too now, and Thomas had to hold a hand up to shield his eyes. As he came closer, one hand wasn’t enough, he needed two hands to see. He let go of the horse’s reins, and it kept going straight ahead, aiming directly for the star.

Thomas had no idea where he was until the horse whinnied and stood on its rear legs, throwing Thomas off. He fell onto the edge of a cliff and looked around. It was the cliff where he first made out with Newt. The star was nowhere to be seen.

Newt was next to him, but he looked different – he was glowing. He was almost as bright as the star, but Thomas didn’t have to shield his eyes. Newt laughed at him, silently. His eyes were shining with brilliance, radiating power. They leaned together and locked lips, kissing passionately. Thomas brought a hand up to feel Newt’s face and felt the soft, smooth, glowing skin. He slid his other hand through the beautiful blond hair, almost white in the radiance of Newt’s skin.

As they pulled away from each other, Thomas felt the warmth of the stables fire. Newt cuddled down beside him, snuggling his head into Thomas’ neck. Thomas could almost have gone to sleep like that. He was grateful that Janson wasn’t here. He mentioned that to Newt, who laughed in return, his soft breath tickling Thomas’ neck.

As Thomas turned over to see Newt and kiss him again, his father put down the goblet of water.

“Excellent. Well then let it be recorded that the tax for shoe-making –“

Thomas had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He stood up, and Newt stood with him. “Don’t drink the water, it’s poisoned!”

But the king could not hear Thomas. He started to froth at the mouth, his eyes bulging and his throat convulsing. Thomas’ father stood up just as Jorge threw up beside his chair. The king walked to Thomas and collapsed at his feet. Teresa’s scream echoed around the Great Hall.

Newt pulled Thomas closer to him and stroked his face, wiping away a single tear that fell down his face. Just as Newt mumbled “ _I love you, Tommy_ ” in Thomas’ ear, Aris walked over to him and whispered, with a leer on his face, “He will have to disappear.”

Suddenly Newt looked fearfully around. His glowing skin seemed to glow brighter, and he looked Thomas directly in the eyes. “Wake up, Tommy,” he urged, eyes skirting around, “you need to wake up Tommy. Wake up!”

 

***

 

When Thomas awoke, it was pitch black, but he could tell that there was someone in his room, breathing heavily. Fuck. Newt? They’d already seen each other today, and he wasn’t the type to go creeping around in someone’s room.

Thomas tried to regulate his breathing again, pretend he was asleep, so at least his attacker wouldn’t have the element of surprise. The attacker must have been heavy built, because they were none too quiet when trying to creep across the floor. Thomas’ eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he suddenly spotted the silhouette of something – a knife! This was quickly becoming very dangerous.

The attacker came ever closer to Thomas, and when the floor made a particularly loud creaking sound, Thomas heard them grunt, a low grunt, gruff, male. The man was almost at the foot of Thomas’ bed now, and still creeping closer. Thomas attempted to slowly, silently pull down the covers, so at least his arms would be free. He did so silently, until his left arm was free. That would have to do, because the man was now at the head of the bed.

From the very dim outline Thomas could see, the knife was long and cruel and very, very sharp. The man began to raise it, gripping it with two hands, ready to swiftly bring it down and end the king’s life. _Not today_ , thought Thomas.

He brought his hand up and forcefully connected with the man’s most vulnerable area: his privates. The shock seemed to stun the attacker and Thomas rolled out of bed, looking in vain for something to defend himself with. It was too dark.

The attacker had recovered and was walking warily towards Thomas, knife in hand. Thomas could barely distinguish him as a silhouette. He was breathing heavily and loudly, and he terrified Thomas.

The assassin swiped with the knife, barely missing Thomas’ shoulder. He advanced, swiping again, and this time Thomas could feel the wind from the knife going past his ribs. As Thomas moved further back, he felt something – his wooden sword! He had used it when he was a young kid for sparring, but it was nothing able to seriously fend off an attacker. Nevertheless, it would have to do.

The next time the attacker swiped in the air, Thomas held up his wooden sword to it. The blade sliced right through it! It caught the man by surprise though, and Thomas used this moment of reprieve to hit the man’s hand holding the knife. He misjudged it though, as the sword was now a good deal shorter than it had been moments ago. It hit the man’s left knee with a good crack, which Thomas hoped belonged to the knee, not the sword.

The man was grunting now, dealing with the pain from his knee. Thomas moved further back in his room, feeling for anything behind him with one hand, holding the sword up with the other. His hand touched the large bookcase in his room just as the man lurched forward with the knife, stabbing at the air just to the left of Thomas’ ribs. Thomas’ left hand grasped a book and he threw it at his attacker, missing. After a short laugh, the man lunged forward once more, this time succeeding with the knife.

Thomas’ eyes opened wide. The knife had been aimed for his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He looked down at the thick book which the knife was buried in, which had saved his life. He had only just brought it up in time. He could barely make it out in the pitch darkness. But he knew what to do.

He twisted the book and the knife fell out of the assassin’s grasp. Thomas wrenched the knife from the book and aimed it for his attacker’s chest. It sunk in, and the man screamed. Thomas pulled it out and stabbed the man again. He fell to the floor, writhing in pain, and Thomas stabbed the man in the heart.

Silence.

Thomas’ breath returned, heavy, choked. He still had no idea who his would-be killer was.

His bedroom door opened and Teresa rushed in, clutching a lantern.

“Tom, are you alright, I heard screams, and –“

Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the scene. She was soon followed by Jorge and Frypan.

Thomas couldn’t believe what he was seeing in the soft glow of the lanterns. Lying, dead, on the ground, shirt soaked in blood, was _Alby_.

The knife dropped from Thomas’ hand, clattering on the floor. Alby’s blood had already dripped onto his feet.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Alby’s quarters were in a state of absolute disarray. The drawers had all been emptied, the mattress lay on its side, and clothes adorned the floor. The small standing mirror had also been smashed, and the shards on the floor reflected the faces of Thomas, Teresa, Jorge, Frypan and Aris. Aris was pale as he walked around the room, and Teresa had started crying again. Nobody made a sound as they searched for something, a piece of evidence as to why the king’s manservant had tried to kill him. But there was nothing. No note, no journal, nothing.

Teresa was looking at the chest of drawers in confusion. “Hang on, there’s, there’s another little drawer in here, but I’m not sure how to open it.” Indeed she was right, there was a thin drawer at the top, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Teresa felt around the back of the wooden chest and her finger found what it was looking for: a tiny, well-crafted, hidden button. She pressed it, and the last remaining drawer popped out.

Aris swore, and Jorge exclaimed in surprise. Teresa pulled out a single letter, hidden inside. It was short, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“To my dearest A,

You have been a faithful servant and a faithful lover. Continue to do my bidding, and I assure you that we will finally be able to be together, in love, in public. The execution of the king was marvellously performed, inspired. It was all for the greater good, for the good of _us_. Just one more person remains in the way of our love: Thomas. I ask you to put aside any devotion you have had in the past, and think instead of the love we have for each other. Kill your master when he is sleeping, and no one will know the better.

Forever thy lover – that’s it. That’s all it says.”

“There’s no name?” urged Jorge. Teresa shook her head. Stunned silence gripped the room. Alby had poisoned the king at the orders of someone else – someone he loved. Alby, who had been employed for years, whose father had been a manservant, and his father before him. Alby who, day after day, had been the perfect worker, and oftentimes a confidant for Thomas. Fucking Alby.

“I guess I need a new manservant.”

 

***

 

The sun was only just beginning to rise as Thomas made his way to the stables. it was still cold, but he could see a light in the building, and hoped it was the warm fire. It had taken no small amount of coercion to convince Jorge to let him walk out of the castle alone, even if he was only going to the stables. Jorge was very concerned that Alby was not working alone: he feared that this was all part of a larger conspiracy, in which case there were many more people lining up to put a stake in Thomas’ heart.

The door opened before Thomas even had a chance to knock, and Newt barrelled out and hugged Thomas, pulling him to the ground. Newt had been crying, his eyes red, and they started to water again as Newt buried his face in Thomas’ neck.

“Newt, I’m – I’m alright.”

“I just, I just heard what happened, T-T-Tommy, and oh, oh, I was so scared. I was so scared, Tommy, please don’t, don’t do that ever – don’t do it ever again, Tommy. Oh, Tommy,” Newt sobbed. He was still buried in Thomas’ neck, and he was shaking, murmuring “Tommy” over and over again. Thomas just patted the back of his head, comforting him.

Thomas exhaled deeply. “I love you, Newt. I want to tell everyone that I love you. I want to scream it from the balcony, I want to shout it in the Great Chapel, I want to say it to you every night.”

“I feel the same Tommy, and I want to be with you every night.”

“Maybe you can… I mean, since Alby – there’s certainly a position as manservant open. That way you can be close to me all the time. But you wouldn’t be as free as you are out here, and you would have to make the bed and everything like that, and if you don’t want to –“

“I want to. I want to be with you.”

Thomas smiled. Newt was the only good thing to happen to him in the last few days. “And come, I want you to meet Teresa, my sister. I want you to meet her as… as my boyfriend.”

The pair stood up, for they had been lying on the ground the whole time, and brushed themselves off. Newt packed together his few belongings, left a note for Janson, and the couple left for Castle Redania, hand in hand, a sign to the outer world that class could be overcome by love, that a king and a peasant could be together if they damn well chose.

As they got closer to the castle, however, Newt let go of Tommy’s hand. “I don’t want you to be more of a target than you already are,” he explained. Thomas understood. This could be seen as a weakness, a sign that he was unfit to rule, and those who were already becoming disillusioned with the monarchy may decide to overthrow him. It was a long stretch, but not altogether unlikely.

Thomas led Newt to his bedroom first to unload his things, and Newt gasped when he saw the room, despite its still messy state, with books strewn everywhere and a large bloodstain on the floor that had yet to be washed out. “It’s so large! And beautiful! I never imagined anything like this.” Newt dropped his small bag of clothes in the corner. Thomas was thankful that Newt was about his size and could share clothes, because Thomas had a whole room full of clothes which he didn’t wear. And Newt definitely needed the clothes.

The two ventured out to Teresa’s room, where they found her alone. Thomas walked in first, suddenly wary that Teresa looked… off. As was the norm now, her eyes were bloodshot, but she seemed almost – fearful.

“Teresa, is anything… wrong?” After receiving a negative answer, he continued. “Well then, there’s someone I would like you to meet.”

Teresa looked up. She smiled wanly, almost as if she found it difficult to be happy for Thomas. “Tom, there’s something that I need to tell you. Alone. But you go first.”

Thomas was concerned, but he invited Newt in anyway. The blond boy shuffled next to Thomas, who enveloped Newt’s hand with his own and laid a kiss upon his forehead.

Teresa looked up at Thomas, eyes asking desperate questions. “I don’t recognise him. What family is he from?”

“Newt, this is Teresa. Teresa, Newt.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“My family name,” began Newt, “has been lost to the ages. I have been working in Morriville as the stable boy.”

“A stable boy,” repeated Teresa. Thomas gripped Newt’s hand tighter. “A stable boy? What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Thomas? A stable boy? Could you get any lowlier? Couldn’t find a street urchin, or a, or a fucking beggar?”

“Newt is pure of heart and that it all that matt-“

“No it fucking isn’t!” exploded Teresa. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Newt was getting annoyed, Thomas could feel it, his knuckles going white. “What the fuck are you doing?” Teresa directed this at Newt. “You will _not_ use my brother for your own advantage. Leave, the both of you.”

Newt was fuming, but obeyed. Thomas was simply confused. Teresa didn’t act like this, she was always supportive of him. Why would she care who he loved? He followed Newt out of the room, tears forming in his eyes. The one ally he had assumed would be there for him had let him down.

“Tommy, is it really such a problem that I am not of ‘pure blood’? I mean, what the _fuck_?! If she wasn’t your sister, I’d have told her to –“

“She’ll come around. Just - just give her time.” Newt quietened. “Why don’t you unpack your bag, put the clothes in my wardrobe, and I’ll grab us some lunch from Frypan. And look – I’m sorry that that was the first impression of Teresa.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.”

Newt went off to Thomas’ bedroom, Thomas in the other direction. Frypan had made some sandwiches, and Thomas piled five onto a plate for the two boys to share. As he was on his way back to Newt, he remembered that Teresa had wanted to talk with him. He was unsure what it could be about, but veered off in the direction of her room, hoping that maybe a sandwich would appease her foul mood.

That was when he heard her scream. Fear and helplessness rolled together into one piercing, hideous sound. It reverberated off the stone walls, bouncing around, creating a maze of screams. But the scream was cut short, long before it had run its natural course, and Thomas dropped the plate, sprinting to her room. When he entered, Newt and Aris were in there, both crouching near the body. _Teresa is dead_ , thought Thomas. He felt his world crashing in around him. Nothing would support him now. It felt almost as if his heart had been ripped out from his chest, leaving him devoid of all emotion, devoid of sadness and anger and happiness and fear. There was nothing left.

“She’s still got a heartbeat!” yelled Newt.

“Get a physician!” Aris was red in the face, still feeling for a pulse in her wrist. As Thomas moved further around, he saw his sister, lying face down, barely breathing, with a patch of matted, bloody hair at the back of her head. This had been no accident.

He ran to the infirmary to find a physician, the blood pounding in his head. Teresa! She had done nothing, was a threat to no one. It made no sense that she would be attacked. She had no enemies – _well, except Newt_ , said a voice in his head. A voice that he pushed away. Newt would never do something like this.

_Wouldn’t he?_


	6. Chapter 6

“There’s nothing more we can do for her. She must rest – not that that seems to be too hard for her,” said the physician looking down at the comatose Teresa. He was a fat man named Cardin, with numerous chins, thinning brown hair and a pudgy face. Thomas left Teresa unwillingly, hand in Newt’s, and laid a soft kiss on her cheek, mumbling “get well soon,” before leaving.

The councillate had gathered for an emergency meeting. “This family is being hunted,” stated Jorge, “and we need to find the source.” Thomas was sat on the great throne, looking down at the councillors seated on his right. On his left, where he and Teresa would have sat less than a week ago, was Newt, who had been sworn in as manservant and protector of Thomas.

“We first need to establish who would stand to profit from the death of the royal family.” The list was long, ranging from any servant who had ever had a dispute with the family to the members of the councillate themselves. Even the pope had been included on the list.

“This doesn’t at all narrow down the suspects,” argued Thomas. “Let’s just look at what we know. We know that Alby killed the king and tried to kill me at the behest of someone who either loved him or was leading him on for personal gain. I’d go with the latter.”

“Where is the note? I believe Teresa kept it.” Jorge seemed pensive.

“It seems to have been stolen when she was attacked,” answered Aris.

“ _Shit._ ”

“I suggest,” ventured Thomas, “that we all go to bed. In the morning light we shall all be able to see things clearer.” Jorge looked as if he was about to protest. “I shall have Newt to protect me, so worry not, Jorge.” Not altogether satisfied, Jorge nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, your majesty.”

Jorge looked as stressed as he had in years. This was a disaster. Under his eyes lay dark, black circles, his shoes were not polished, and he was getting a cold. One member of the royal family dead, the other two attacked, one of them in a coma. Nothing like this was ever supposed to happen.

Aris seemed perturbed, eyes darting around the room, and Frypan seemed – well, he just seemed sad. He always had a soft spot for Teresa – kitten, he used to call her – and he seemed the hardest hit by her brush with death. His moustache even drooped.

Thomas stood up, and with a quick thank you to the councillate, left with Newt to his bedchamber. It had been cleaned since the incident in the early hours of that morning, and the bloodstain was gone. The king sized bed – how fitting – had been freshly made with new sheets. The king began to take off his clothes to get into bed. He lifted off his shirt to reveal a bruise where Alby had stabbed the book protecting Thomas’ heart.

Newt sidled over, hands gingerly touching the bruise, stroking it. He quickly drew his hands away when Thomas winced.

“Sorry.” Thomas quickly grabbed Newt’s hands and placed them over his heart again, ignoring the pain.

“Don’t be,” he said. “My heart is yours.”

He leaned forward, tilted his head ever so slightly, and allowed his eyes to close once he felt Newt’s lips on his. The soft beauty of Newt engulfed him, coursing over him. Kissing Newt was blissful, a refuge from pain. Thomas gently pushed his tongue inside Newt’s mouth, exploring, and Newt moaned softly. Thomas’ hand roamed, feeling the soft skin of Newt’s cheek. Newt’s hands occupied themselves with admiring Thomas’ brown hair, using the back of his head to pull Thomas closer. It was a position neither of them wanted to break – it made them feel safe, connected, like they could never be torn apart. They were together, and the outside forces had no power.

Thomas broke away to lift up Newt’s brown shirt and reveal his breathing chest. The ribs were partially visible, but not in an unhealthy way. Thomas dragged his fingers along the bones, feeling the ripples. It was intoxicating, and the two connected lips again, this time hands roaming each other’s bodies. Newt moved his hands around to Thomas’ back, exploring his powerful shoulder blades, feeling the muscles move as Thomas moved his own hands. Newt moved his hands further down, finding the strong back muscles and tickling them lightly, feeling them react. Thomas’ hands roamed around Newt’s hips, moving up and down as the bliss waxed and waned. They began to wander slowly further down, slipping below Newt’s pants.

 Still engaged in the kiss, each boy’s hand wandered down to the pants of the other, slowly undoing the string that held them up. Thomas won the race, and Newt’s pants were pushed down. He stepped out of them just as he had finished with Thomas’ black pants, sliding them, too, down. The kiss was broken so that each boy could attend to their boots and pants, until the both of them remained in just their undergarments. Thomas’ underwear was black, tight, showing off an impressive bulge, and darkened by a wet spot in the front. Newt’s, on the other hand, were grey, thin, raggedy – the numerous rips and tears let Thomas see Newt’s already hardening cock. The kiss began once more, the devouring of each other’s lips, and this time hands wandered to a much more sensual area. Thomas was feeling Newt’s perky little ass, squeezing it and rubbing it. He shoved some fingers in through the rips of the underwear, feeling the plump skin underneath. He felt further down, at the top of Newt’s powerful thighs, felt the strong muscles, then moved around, feeling Newt’s cock and balls. The rips became larger and suddenly the underwear fell away, ripped apart by Thomas’ fingers.

Newt was naked, still kissing Thomas, and feeling his boyfriend up, groping the beautiful cock through his underpants. He grabbed the shaft and smiled when Thomas moaned, the extra friction coming through the underwear. He slid his hand up and down, revelling in the growling sounds coming through Thomas’ mouth into Newt’s. His other hand went for the balls, grabbing them hard, then playing with them softly, massaging them before renewing his relentless attack. When Thomas could take it no longer, he pulled off his underpants and stepped out of them, giving Newt free access to his cock, which the young blond took advantage of with glee.

Newt broke the kiss and left Thomas standing, then knelt, the swinging cock in front of his face. He grabbed it with his left hand and pumped it a couple of times, squeezing out some pre-come which he hungrily licked up. When it was all gone, he set to work – he took the cock in his mouth and slowly moved further and further down, much to the delight of Thomas, judging from the moans. Thomas had his eyes closed, eyelids fluttering, engrossed in the pleasure Newt was giving him. When Newt reached the base, he swallowed a few times, relishing the size of the man in his mouth. He then withdrew, ready for a renewed attack. He moved his head up and down, sucked, pushed his head in and out. His hands were grasping Tommy’s ass, using it as leverage to pull himself forward. The bliss was incredible, and Tommy’s moan began to rise in pitch, indicating he was ready to explode.

“Wait, stop!” Thomas looked down at Newt, who was still moving his tongue around, tasting the pre-come that was now flowing freely. “Now it’s your turn.”

Thomas pulled his cock back as Newt stood up, his cock slick. Thomas fell to his knees, eyeing the cock before him. It was a lighter skin colour than his, and the hairs around it seemed to have been shaved off. The head was bright pink, though, a beacon standing out.

He had never done anything like this before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. He pumped the cock a couple of times, feeling its size, then enveloped his mouth around the head. It felt good, warm, filling, and he moved his head a bit further downwards. He could feel the throbbing veins, and he kept going. He remembered an old wives tale he had heard, about holding down the left thumb, and tried it. It worked! The urge to retch had gone, replaced by the sheer enjoyment he was getting from sucking Newt’s cock. He couldn’t go the whole way, but did the best he could. He tried using his tongue as Newt had used his tongue, swirling it around the head, and Newt moaned a high pitched moan, which Thomas took as a good sign. He worked on the cock, trying to go further down, but never being able to reach the base. He wrapped a fist around his own cock and started pumping it, the pleasure now coming from all angles.

“I’ve got an idea, Tommy,” moaned Newt. “We’ll have to do it on the bed though.”

The two clambered onto the bed, Newt lying with his head towards the base, and Thomas with his head pointing towards the pillows. They each lay on their sides, facing each other, and then moved closer. Thomas took Newt’s cock in hand, Newt took Thomas’. Then they each began to suck, feverishly, feeling not just the pleasure of sucking a cock, but being sucked too. The bliss was huge, and it pushed Thomas past his boundaries – he managed to take Newt’s cock all in, with his nose buried and the base. He felt so impaled, but it was enjoyable, and Newt’s aggressive style was getting him close to coming. He couldn’t say so to him though, as his mouth was stuffed full of Newt’s own cock, and so he shot off with no warning whatsoever, taking Newt by surprise. Newt, in return, shot his load off into Thomas’ mouth, who tried not to let any escape. He wanted every bit of his boyfriend to cover him, and he began to like the taste of Newt’s load.

At last, the two rolled over, and Newt moved next to Thomas, snuggling into him. They were both exhausted, and they soon fell asleep together, hand in hand.

 

***

 

When Thomas woke up in the morning, he smiled. Sunshine was streaming in. His night had been full of pleasant dreams, full of Newt. He noticed he was still naked – he also noticed that Newt had gone.

There was a letter next to him.

_Tommy,_

_I had to go see Janson, down at the stables, but I’ll be back as soon as I can._

_I love you, Newt xx_

Thomas didn’t really want to wait for Newt, but he knew he wouldn’t be let out of the castle alone. So he went off to find Frypan, who was just making a breakfast of roasted pears and muesli.

“Frypan, would there be any chance that you could accompany me to the stables. It seems my protector has gone, and I kind of want him back.”

Of course, Frypan knew damn well what was going on between Thomas and Newt. He was no fool, and as the cook, he got all the gossip from the servants. That was why he was such an important councillor.

“Sure, your majesty. Do you want to go now?”

Thomas nodded, and they set off. He was glad that at least Frypan seemed to approve of his relationship. Or, in the very least, he didn’t _disapprove_ of it, so that was something. But as they neared the stables, Thomas could feel that something was wrong. The fire didn’t seem to have been lit, but it was always lit. If there was someone at the stables, it was lit. _Something had happened to Newt_.

Thomas broke out into a sprint, terrified of what he would find when he opened the stables door. Heart full of trepidation, he didn’t bother to knock. He swung open the door, heart racing, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness inside the building. He gasped.

Lying, in a pool of blood, was _Janson_. He was dead, his neck slit open, the wound still fresh. And sitting, at the opposite end, knife still in his hands was Newt.

Everything went by too quickly for Thomas to register. His eyes didn’t seem to work anymore, they only seemed to show Janson’s body and Newt’s pleading face. Everything seemed distant, like he was seeing and hearing things through someone else. Frypan rushed in and took the bloodied knife off Newt, twisting his hands behind his back. Newt started shouting at Thomas, but the words were dulled and echoing, incomprehensible to Thomas. He watched as Newt was dragged out of the stables, not really resisting, but still pleading to his Tommy. Thomas heard nothing of it.

A single tear fell from his eye.


	7. Chapter 7

There was no one left. They were either dead, or in a coma, or murderers. Where the fuck had they gone wrong? When had they displeased the gods so violently, that this was their retribution? They had always been faithful to the gods, they had been good rulers, the people were prospering under their rule. It was all senseless.

“Your majesty, the boy requested to see you. What shall I say?”

Thomas merely shook his head, not even looking at the guard. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth to reply, nor to open his eyes. He just knew that only sobs would escape, and he didn’t need them right now. He swallowed hard, unsure if the guard had left.

“He – he said it was urgent, your majesty. He said he had an explanation for it all, but he’d only tell you.”

Again Thomas shook his head, and his mouth started to quiver. He felt the tears welling in his eyes.

“He said that you nee-“

“WELL YOU CAN TELL HIM TO FUCK OFF!” Thomas whirled around, angry tears in his eyes, his mouth half open, strings of saliva hanging from the roof of it. He was the very picture of distress.

“Certainly, your majesty.” The guard had flinched and now hurriedly walked away. His footsteps echoed down the passage, soon replaced by Thomas’ heaving sobs. Thomas collapsed to the floor, cowering in the foetal position, shaking. He couldn’t bring himself under control, no matter how hard he tried. The sobs wracked his body and he closed his eyes. He was so _weak_. He couldn’t even bring himself to stand again. He lay there, hugging himself, praying that no one would come and see him in such a state.

He had never been betrayed like this. Perhaps he should have seen this coming – he knew nothing about Newt, except that he was from a foreign land. And even that he couldn’t be sure of – how did he know that Newt wasn’t just lying through his teeth the entire time? Thomas was almost sure now that it had been Newt that attacked Teresa. How else would he have been able to get to her bedroom before Thomas and Aris, if he hadn’t been in there to start with? Newt was a killer, and now he would have to die.

The tears came again. Newt had been the only good thing that had happened to Thomas, and now that too had been soured. But Thomas still didn’t want to lose Newt. Just last night they had shown their love. And Thomas had thought that it was real love. That was what hurt Thomas the most. His heart had been fooled and then ripped out, cruelly.

Thomas climbed onto the bed, just wanting to be able to sleep and forget everything that was happening to him. He put his head on the pillow, but soon had to turn the pillow over because it was wet from tears. He just lay there, letting everything come out: screams of agony, the tears, the damn snot from his nose – it all just came out. He hoped that if he let it go, then there would be no more when he had to listen to the councillate later that day. He could never show weakness like this in front of them. Crying over a boy? Ridiculous. Thomas let out another spluttering sob.

“You alright, Tom?” Gally and Minho were standing in the doorway, looking uncertainly at each other. Thomas spun around, trying unsuccessfully to cover up the fact he had just been totally distraught.

“Yeah, yeah.” His mouth was still quivering, but he had it more under control now.

“You’ve got a little…” Minho pointed to under his nose, and Thomas wiped the bit of snot away.

“Thanks.” Silence. No one knew what to say. “How come you guys are here?”

“Jorge said that you needed someone to protect you, yeah? Well, who better than a guard and his trusty sidekick?”

Thank the gods for Jorge. He always knew what to do.

“Oh, cool. Well, make yourselves at home.”

“Man, this place is crazy. Total upgrade from the fuckin’ Chapel. You’ve even got a window.”

The Great Chapel may have been a beautiful and old building, but the builders had forgone window when designing it.

Minho and Gally chucked their stuff on one side of the room and pulled a couple of large, oak chairs around to face Thomas.

“So.”

“So.”

It was quite simply awkward. Thomas’ eyes were still red, and the other two still felt like they were intruding.

“Do you guys want to hear how my little date with Brenda went?” Thomas looked up, a grin on his face. He couldn’t imagine anyone going on a date with Minho, let alone _Brenda_ , whose looks were much sought after. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. So we met at the tavern, which was a great place to meet, because it was absolutely _swarming_ with prostitutes. I didn’t realise that they were having their fucking convention in the tavern. So Brenda walks in, and she’s looking nice, of course, but then she doesn’t spot me. She doesn’t even recognise me. Anyway I walk over to her and say ‘hi’ and whatnot, and then we go horse-riding, like you suggested, Tom.” Thomas smiled a sad smile. He didn’t need to be reminded of the stables.

“Anyway, I help her onto a horse, and then I get on a horse, and then I remember that I don’t remember how to ride. So we set off, nice and slow, everything’s fine. But she wants to go faster, and look, her boobs when that horse is running are fucking incredible. They’re bouncing up and down, right, and it’s just great, I’ve got to be careful though, because if she catches me, it’s all over. So we go faster, and the boob-bouncing gets better, right, except that I’m really starting to hurt. The fucking horse is going too fast, and I’m bobbing up and down too, and it’s crushing my dick!”

Thomas and Gally both laughed. Something like this was always happening to Minho.

“But if I slow down, the boobs won’t be as good, and she’ll think I’m some sort of weak shit, right? But if I don’t slow down, I’m not going to have a dick left, I’ll just have a piece of crushed meat hanging between my legs. It’s a fucking catastrophe. So we slow down, because self-preservation, and I figure we should just come to a stop, right, and make out, because I don’t want to ride this fucking horse any further than I have to.”

“So we stop, and get off and whatever, start making out, everything’s fine, until she reaches down to grab my dick. Now, saying that it was sore is a huge understatement. It was screaming for help, and when she grabs it, I’m close to fucking crying. But I have to guide her hand away, look like a total idiot, and seem like a prude.”

Thomas and Gally were laughing raucously now. It was so typical that this would happen.

“Anyway, it works in my benefit, because when I pull her away, she says that she was testing me, right, and that she wants someone who wasn’t just in it for a fuck. I was totally just in it for a fuck, but she’s really delighted now, and suggests that we make our way back. On horse. Again.”

“Well actually, she suggests that we race. Now, I can’t lose a race, right, it’s against my code of practice. So I’m riding as hard as I can, determined not to lose, pushing through the pain. I still lost. And when we get back, my dick is pulverised, there’s nothing left. But, the long and the short of it is, I have an actual girlfriend now, and she wants to see me again.”

Gally was roaring now, and Thomas was feeling once more in high spirits. It was so good to be the three of them again, almost playing like they did back when they were kids. But Thomas still wanted Newt back. He wanted someone who he could share everything with, and Minho and Gally just weren’t the people, despite their best efforts.

“So when’s the next date?” asked Gally, still trying to recover from the laughing.

“Tuesday. I was thinking we should go to one of the nice gardens in Morriville, right, and have a nice meal, and go nowhere near another damn horse.”

“I’m sure Frypan could make you something.”

“Good thinking, Tom old boy.”

More silence, disturbed only by the occasional stifled laugh from Gally.

“I – I should go see Newt.”

“Why?” asked Gally. “He’s nothing Thomas, just another peasant scum. He killed Janson.”

“And that’s why. He – he’s genuine, and I still believe him. I need to – I need to hear from him personally why he did it.”

“Do you want us to come with you?”

Thomas shook his head at Gally. This was something that he needed to do alone.

“Well that’s too fucking bad, because Jorge will personally kill us if we let you out of our sight, so we’re coming.”

“Min, please,” he pleaded. It was to no avail. They would all visit Newt’s cell together. They would all visit the murderer.


	8. Chapter 8

“Your majesty, your majesty!” The fat physician was running through the hallways, looking for the king. “Your majesty, where are you? I bring great news!” He had to pause to recover his breath. Running was more difficult that he had anticipated. “Your – shit!” The king wasn’t in his bedchambers. “Yoouur majesty! Pleeaase!” He was starting to wheeze, all this overexcitement getting the better of him. He ran aimlessly, hoping he would run into the king. “Your majesty!” He was starting to slow down. “I, I need to, to tell you, very, uh, impor, uh, important, uh, oh dear, news!” He had to stop and grab his knees to prevent himself from collapsing.

“Cardin, what is the matter?” Like a mirage, the king had appeared before him, saving him from probable cardiac arrest. He waited a moment before answering, unsure if he would even be able to speak through the heavy breathing.

“Princess Teresa has, oh gosh, has woken up. She -” He gulped. “She wanted to, uh, to speak with you, your majesty.”

Teresa had awoken! Thomas could hardly believe his ears. Flanked by Minho and Gally, he raced to the infirmary, almost afraid that this would just be a cruel joke. Newt would have to wait. The stone corridors became a blur as he flew past them, even Gally and Minho struggling to keep up. Teresa was awake! Thomas only hoped that she had seen her attacker, or could at least reveal some small clue which would give away the would-be killer. He only hoped that she hadn’t lost her memory.

Thomas was the first one to get the infirmary, closely followed by his two shadows, and Jorge striding not far behind. Teresa was sitting up in her bed, smiling, her head bandaged but otherwise showing no scars. Her bed was a large four-poster with red sheets, and she wore a flowing blue nightgown.

“Tom.”

“Teresa.”

The two embraced as if they had been separated for weeks. They were both close to tears, but held back. Now was not the time for it.

“Tom, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to yell at –“

“Don’t Teresa. It’s… it’s over.” She looked inquiringly at Thomas. No one had told her. “He’s in the jail. You were right.” She had nothing to say to that.

“Tom, there’s something else. Do you – do you remember when I said that I had something important to tell you. I guess I should’ve gone first. But now everyone gets to hear the confession, and everyone should hear it.”

“Do you remember when we were searching Alby’s room, and I found the note? Well, I’m afraid there was more to it than that. Do you know where it is now?” Thomas shook his head. “I figured he’d take it.”

“Who?” asked Jorge.

“Aris.” The room stayed silent, stunned. “I recognised the handwriting of the letter immediately. I’ve had enough letters like that to know that it was Aris’ handwriting. He always forgets to dot the i’s. I knew it was Aris straight away and – and he signed it at the end.”

“But you said that there was no name!” cried Jorge.

“I know. I thought that it couldn’t possibly be Aris, so I lied for him. I trusted him, you know. I had always pictured us getting married and having kids and – well, this just didn’t seem to fit in. I thought that there must have been a mistake somewhere, maybe someone had forged the letter, you see? I guess I still trusted Aris.”

“Teresa, what – what the hell? He pretty much killed our father!”

“I know. But I thought everything would be alright, I could just talk it over with him. So I lied for him, and I took the letter, but he knew – he knew that I had covered up the name. Oh, Tom, I’m so stupid.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you at the moment.”

“And so I talked with him, I confronted him with the letter. I asked him why he had written it. He said ‘because I needed the king dead.’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought, you know, maybe he was joking, or, or maybe he was just playing a game. But, but he wasn’t. He said to me ‘the monarchy is fragile. It won’t take much to break it.’ I said that I didn’t understand. He told me that he had been given orders to end the reign of Redania Castle. He – he claimed that he killed his father in his sleep –“

This caused Jorge to shudder. He had been good friends with Aris’ father, and felt his death hard. A vein in his forehead started to stand out.

“- and he also said that there were others working with him… someone from the stables.”

This time it was Thomas’ turn to shiver. Newt had been working with Aris. He had tried to bring the monarchy down. Newt and Aris were, were – in cahoots together. It was almost too much to bear. It seemed Newt had a whole secret life that Thomas never knew about.

“But then he heard Thomas and Newt coming, and he left.”

Maybe they had attacked Teresa together.

“But when you left, Tom, he came back. He made me promise not to tell anyone, and he said that if I said nothing, we would still be able to get married. I didn’t want to say yes, Tom, but I was scared. I said it, and I turned around to see him. He had something – I don’t remember what – raised above his head, and that’s all I can remember. I don’t remember him hitting me.”

“And then I woke up here. Tom, you need to find Aris. Find out who he was working with, and find out who gave him these fucking orders.”

Thomas nodded in acquiescence.

“And Tom,” Teresa leaned in. “Kill the bastard.”

 

***

 

Aris was quickly found in his room. He put up no resistance. He knew when his time was up. The guards took him to the lowest cell they had, where it was cold and damp, and darkness reigned. Thomas followed them down there, hands gripping a lantern hard. Behind him were Minho and Gally, Jorge and now Frypan. They travelled further and further down, going underground, at the pace of a funeral march. Solemn, they all knew how important Aris was if they were to find the ultimate culprit behind the siege on the monarchy.

He was put into a cell, and Thomas followed behind him, flanked by a guard. The gate was closed behind them. The shackles were put on Aris, and he sat down on a chair. Thomas sat on another chair, a small table separating them.

“Aris.” The other man leered at him. “You are charged with High Treason. Do you accept this charge?” Aris laughed, a croaking laugh, like a bullfrog, and then shrugged his shoulders.

“Should I? What’s in it for me?”

“If you provide us with names of your co-conspirators, your life shall be spared.”

“My life?” Aris began to laugh again, harshly, like he wanted to cough. “I don’t need my life. My life is worthless. The only thing that I ever accomplished in my life was getting rid of your imbecile of a father.”

Slap. Thomas retracted his hand. The reddening of Aris’ cheek only made him seem more demonic.

“Who issued your orders? Who wants the monarchy gone?”

Aris remained defiantly silent. A smile stole across his lips. Thomas hated him for what he had done. He had upset the equilibrium, he had disturbed the forces of the universe, and now Thomas’ life had been irreparably damaged. He had lost his father. He had almost lost his sister. He had practically lost his boyfriend.

 _Newt_. Why did he have to be part of this? It was cruel. It was a blow to Thomas’ sanity, to the instincts he had always trusted.

“Why are you working with Newt, the stable boy?”

The smile on Aris’ face widened, revealing his teeth. His eyebrows angled upwards and he laughed a croaky laugh.

“The stable boy?” he asked. “The stable boy!” Was he delirious? “I would never work with such peasant scum. Even us High Treasoners have our standards. Don’t be ridiculous. I was working with _Janson_. Of course he’s dead now. The fool boy killed him.”

Thomas was stunned. “You weren’t working with Newt?” Aris merely sneered. And coughed.

Thomas couldn’t believe it – Newt was innocent. He would have to see him, apologise. He almost felt ashamed for suspecting him – what evidence did he ever have? A smile crept across his face, a smile which wouldn’t disappear, even as Aris slowly choked to death behind him, killed by the poison he had earlier taken, when he heard Teresa was conscious. When Aris lay dead, his head resting on the table, never to move again, Thomas opened the cell door. Nothing could spoil his happiness, not the worried looks on everyone’s faces, not the little bit of foam from Aris’ mouth which had made its way onto Thomas’ pants. _Newt was innocent_.

He walked, as if in a dream, floating, through the corridors to Newt’s cell. It was much higher up than where they left Aris to rot.

“Tommy!”

Thomas grabbed the key from the guard posted outside the cell and unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal a Newt with pale skin and reddened eyes.

“Tommy!” Newt jumped onto Thomas, who spun around with Newt latched on. The pair embraced deeply, before locking lips.

It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful kiss Thomas had ever experienced. It was a kiss laden with grief and relief, sadness, madness, and _love_. The two grasped each other’s face, never wanting each other to let go again. The kiss was a force field, a repellent to all the people who would tear them apart. A tongue wanted entry, and Thomas permitted it, savouring Newt, feeling his beauty taking over the room. Nothing could escape their love, it permeated the air. When they finally broke away from each other, they looked each other in the eyes, deeply.

“I’m sorry, Newt.”

The eyes were moving, scanning Thomas’ face, detailing each part of it to memory. The thick black eyelashes, the faded freckles, the red lips. It was all wonderful, and Newt loved it.

“I wanted to tell you, Tommy, I tried. But… I guess you couldn’t hear.” Newt brushed a tear from Tommy’s face. “I only ever wanted to protect you, baby. That’s all it ever was.” Thomas nodded, still tearful. Newt felt so wondrous, so angelic, that Thomas’ suspicion was quickly becoming more ridiculous. He could someone so _good_ as this do anything bad?

“Do you know what Janson asked me to do? He told me that I should kill you when we were making love. He was disgusting, Tommy, and I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Thomas nodded. He was still crying, still so thankful for Newt’s presence and forgiveness.

“When he turned around, I grabbed a knife. It was sort of just lying on a stall, and I saw it, and I knew what I needed to do. I grabbed the knife, and I walked up behind Janson, and I laid it against his throat, and… and I pulled, Tommy. The – the blood went everywhere, and I was so scared, Tommy, so scared because – well, because it looked like… what it was. I killed Janson.”

Thomas hugged Newt tighter. he wanted him to know how thankful he was.

“I’m not sorry, you know.” Newt had started crying, too, and Thomas gently wiped a salty tear away. “No one will hurt you while I’m alive, Tommy.” Thomas believed him, too. He knew that Newt would look after him, and he was comforted.

“Wow, that was almost a fuckfest.” Thomas turned around to smile, laughing at Minho, while Gally nudged the trainee priest in the ribs. “Dude, no.”

The four looked at each other and laughed, the tension gone from the room. It was easy now, to laugh. Thomas missed being able to freely laugh, not having to worry about others.

“The fuckfest comes later,” whispered Newt in Thomas’ ear.


	9. Chapter 9

“Two matters have been left unresolved.” Jorge addressed the king, the councillate – which had been reduced to himself and Frypan – and Teresa and Newt, sitting opposite. “We have yet to find out who sent the orders to Aris and Janson. It does, however, seem that all operatives inside the castle have been eliminated.” Jorge allowed himself to smile, something he had not done for several days. “And, of course, a new member of the councillate must be appointed.”

Thomas nodded at Frypan, who he had spoken with earlier. The king stood, and spoke. “I believe that Teresa is the most qualified to take over.”

Teresa gasped. She had honestly not been expecting this, especially since she had botched the note situation about as badly as she could’ve.

“Teresa has shown that she will attempt to deal with something using diplomacy before all else, and that is of vital importance in a world that is slowly becoming more focussed on violence as a solution.” Thomas beamed at Teresa. “And I personally vouch for her reliability.”

“Then it is decided. Teresa shall become the newest councillor. May she serve the king nobly.” Jorge, too, was beaming. He had known Teresa since she was born, and was proud of the way she had grown. Next to him, Frypan wiped a tear from his eye, a tear of happiness. He was always proud of his ‘kitten’.

Teresa stood, and moved to the opposite side. She sat in the seat which, only yesterday, the traitor Aris had occupied. She looked at home in it already, prepared to give advice.

“As to the traitor issuing these orders, our guards are following a lead. I would expect that in the next day or two, they shall uncover something, hopefully something which will help us identify the bastard.” Thomas nodded at Jorge.

“Thank you, councillor. Now, shall we retire to our bedrooms? I admit, I am tired, and not just physically. I think it would be best to rest, and prepare for the day ahead of us tomorrow. Good night, everyone.”

Thomas stood up amongst a chorus of well wishes for the night. He wanted to be alone with Newt, but Gally and Minho had been ordered to stay with him at night. Newt would have to sleep in another room, much to the king’s disappointment. But at least he knew he would be safe.

The bed looked very inviting, and Thomas hadn’t been lying when he said he was tired. When both Gally and Minho had packed into the room, he closed the door. They were both sleeping on small mattresses near the king’s bed. It was nothing grand, but Minho said it was still better than the damn cloister at the Great Chapel. When the makeshift beds were both set up, with bedclothes from Thomas’ personal collection, the boys undressed. They were all comfortable with each other, and stripped down to their undergarments. Gally was the bulkiest of the three, with a slightly protruding stomach, whilst Minho was the leanest, his collarbone quite visible.

Ever since Alby’s attack, Thomas made sure that he slept with the curtains open, so that he could see his room in the moonlight. Nothing is more terrifying than the dark, particularly when it hides assassins. He blew the candle beside his bed out, and turned to the side.

“D’you think everything will get back to normal, once this is done?”

“Shut up Minho.” Silence.

“D’you think that Brenda and I will get married one day?”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?” Minho seemed honestly offended.

Thomas smiled. “Because once she sees your tiny dick, she’ll run in the other direction.”

“Alright, fuck off. I don’t even know why I’m bloody protecting you.” Thomas laughed, and Minho followed. “Man I hope that she still likes me after our next date. She’s… she’s really nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight Tom, night Gally.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Thomas turned over and buried his head in the pillow. It was soft, and he soon fell into a warm, gentle sleep, full of laughing blond boys.

 

***

 

When Thomas woke up, it was cold, and he shivered. Even his warm blankets couldn’t protect from such a deep, penetrating cold. He tried to pull more blankets onto himself, and snuggled back against the pillow. He was missing Newt. He was missing his angelic face on the pillow beside him, the cute hair that got messed up when he awoke. He was always smiling, realised Thomas. Even when he was asleep, he smiled, as if the gods had sent him every good dream they had. Thomas could picture Newt lying here, smiling sweetly, sleeping with his head lying against the soft pillow, taken away from all the troubles of the world to a place entirely in his imagination. Thomas really did miss Newt.

Thomas felt like he understood poor Minho. His pining for Brenda was something which Thomas had also experienced. The pure want, the feeling that being apart physically hurt, the fear that absence would mean that the other forgot about them. He wanted to be with Newt every moment of the day, to never be pulled apart. But for the moment, he understood why they couldn’t be together. Gally and Minho had their orders, and Thomas was grateful for their presence. They weren’t Newt, but he felt safe.

His body was feeling a bit sore, the sort of soreness that arises from sleeping on one side for too long. Thomas turned over, just in time to see the dimly lit Gally plunge a knife into Minho’s chest.

Minho screamed. His eyes moved back into his head, leaving only the whites visible. Gally pulled the knife out of Minho’s body, making the younger boy’s screams louder. The pain was searing, not coming in waves but a steady, constant agony. Gally had the knife poised, ready to kill, when Thomas tackled him. They rolled onto the floor and the knife clattered from Gally’s grasp. Thomas had landed on top, and moved to grab the bloodied knife, but Gally’s leg shot up and hit Thomas in the stomach. He rolled over, next to the still convulsing Minho, and Gally picked up the knife. He moved above Thomas, about to kill him.

Gally brought down the knife just as Thomas rolled to the right. He didn’t roll far enough, though, and the knife cut deep into his left arm. He clutched the arm in pain. It was a white pain, a pain that his mind wasn’t able to register. He tried breathing through the agony as the blood began to soak his shirt and into his hand. He stared up at Gally, who had a sneer on his face, a face speckled with Minho’s blood.

Gally kicked Thomas in the chest just as he sat up, pushing him over. Lying flat on his back, breathing heavily, Thomas clutched his arm as the pain flared up again. He was also trying to simultaneously cover his stomach, which was convulsing in anger at its mistreatment. His elbow was pushing into it in an attempt of calm it down, whilst the hand was putting pressure on Thomas’ wound, trying to stem the blood loss.

“Pope Paige sends her regards,” smiled Gally as he placed a booted foot on Thomas’ chest. Thomas couldn’t breathe – Gally was heavy, and he was using all his force to crush the life out of Thomas. He was starting to see black around the edges of his vision, black and red and brown. Then suddenly, the boot was gone. Thomas looked around for it, and saw it lying on the floor. On top of Gally was – Minho? No. It was Newt. Thomas’ saving angel. Gally and the blond both grappled for the knife, which once again the larger boy had dropped. Thomas crawled towards it; it was just a metre away. He didn’t want to outstretch his arm, however. It would be too painful.

Newt kneed Gally in the stomach, who gasped, and then replied by head-butting Newt. The two collapsed beside each other, still struggling. Meanwhile, Thomas inched closer to the knife, his good arm pulling him across the floor. Minho started crying loudly, blubbering sobs bouncing off the walls. Thomas reached the knife and picked it up. Gally was nearby, and Thomas moved himself closer. As he dragged himself further around, he could see the Gally was choking Newt, the blonde’s face starting to go purple. Thomas lifted the knife and stabbed it into Gally’s calf, the knife sliding in easily.

Gally shouted in pain and released Newt, who coughed and spluttered, trying to regain his breath. Thomas lifted the knife again and pushed it into Gally’s thigh. Blood spurted out, covering his hand, as Gally wailed with pain. The screams were cut short when Newt punched Gally in the throat, crushing his vocal cords. Thomas pulled the knife out and Gally squirmed, trying to protect himself from the blade.

The third wound was in Gally’s stomach. Tears were streaming out of Gally’s eyes as he looked at Thomas and Newt, urging them to give him some reprieve, show him some mercy. But Thomas had no mercy. The last stab found Gally’s heart, and his body relaxed. His eyes rolled up as the blood slowly poured out of his chest. He was dead.

Minho’s shrill cries pierced the air once more, and Thomas dragged himself over to him. Newt propped Minho up on the pillows from Thomas’ bed, and then ran to get the physician.

Minho’s breath was ragged now. Gally had got him in one of the lungs, and the airways weren’t working like they used to. Minho was already breathing in his own blood.

“I don’t want to die, Tom.”

Thomas cradled Minho’s face in his hand. His whispers were barely audible.

“I want to live, you know, and have a nice life.”

Tears fell down Minho’s face, mingling with the blood. There was nothing anyone would be able to do for him.

“I want to marry Brenda, and, and maybe have some kids.”

And suddenly Thomas was crying, too, crying for Minho. He was innocent, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I want to get old, Tom. Am I going to be old one day?”

Thomas wiped a tear away. He didn’t know what to say, how to possibly comfort Minho. Minho’s mouth was closed, frowning, the tears pouring off his nose. He couldn’t even move his hand up to brush them away, so he just let them run their course down his face. He was really tired now.

“I,” Minho coughed. He could taste blood. “I just want to sleep, Tom. Maybe I’ll… maybe I’ll see you when I wake up, Tom.”

This couldn’t be possible. Thomas wanted it all to be a dream. Minho couldn’t die – they’d known each other since they were born. They’d grown up together. They’d played together. They’d dreamt together.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

“No, Minho, stay awake, please!”

The head gently dropped to the side and he stopped breathing.

Thomas wiped away another tear a gently closed Minho’s eyes shut. He deserved dignity, not what had happened to him. There was a sob behind him and Thomas turned around. Teresa, Brenda, Frypan and Jorge were gathered. Brenda was distraught, crying on Teresa’s shoulder, while Teresa herself stood, tears streaming down her face.

“Excuse me! Watch out, please! Coming through!” The physician had arrived, far too late. Newt followed behind him as they pushed through the doorway. Cardin bent down over Minho and felt for a pulse.

“Goodnight, Minho,” whispered Thomas.


	10. Chapter 10

Minho was gone. Gally was gone. Aris was gone. Janson was gone. Alby was gone. Thomas’ father was gone. They were all dead, all because of one person: Pope Ava Paige.

And now, she too would have to go.

Thomas’ arm was bandaged – it needed to rest, said Cardin, but it could wait. There were more important things ahead of them. Cardin had found a salve for Newt’s neck, which was already starting to bruise where Gally had choked him.

Thomas couldn’t bear to look at Minho’s body, lying there, in a pool of blood. It was sickening. Thomas didn’t think that he would ever be able to sleep in this room again without remembering Minho’s face, clutching at hope of living a life. The blood had soaked into the floor, the pillows, the bed. It was everywhere, a constant reminder of _death_.

Newt sidled up next to Thomas and planted a sad kiss on his forehead. He knew how much Minho – and Gally – had meant to Thomas. Betrayal like this was… unthinkable. They had found a large bag of coins amongst Gally’s belongings. The bag was obviously from the Great Chapel, it had the emblem of the Pope. Gally had killed Minho, tried to kill Thomas, all for a bag of coins. It was repulsive.

When Thomas couldn’t bear to be in the room any longer, he walked into the Great Hall, fighting the urge to retch. Newt followed behind him, as did Teresa and Brenda.

“He, he was so, so p-pure.” Brenda hadn’t stopped crying. “We – we were going to, to f-fall in, in love, and –” She was overcome by grief, no longer able to speak. Teresa pulled her in and hugged her, letting the handmaid cry on her shoulder. She patted Brenda on the head, murmured whatever comforting words she could, and then turned to Thomas.

“Kill the bitch, Tom. Kill her, for all of us.”

He nodded. He had no intention of doing otherwise. Frypan moved beside him and placed an old, heavy hand on his shoulder. He squeezed and smiled wryly. He didn’t need to say anything for Thomas to understand. The grizzled cook had been affected by these deaths more than he would let show.

Jorge walked to Thomas, a sword hanging in its scabbard by his side. “Newt and I will come with you.” A quick squeeze of his hand let Thomas know that Newt was always there, always watching over him.

 _My saving angel_ , thought Thomas. But this time, it wouldn’t be Thomas who needed saving. He could see the Great Chapel from the castle, hanging above the misty gloom that enveloped the town. Ever imposing, ever terrifying, they were heading into the fortress of the gods and hoping to come out alive again.

His left arm couldn’t lift anything; it was too weak from Gally’s cut. But his right hand worked perfectly, and Thomas chose a spiked mace from the armoury, small enough that he could lift it, but heavy enough that it could do serious damage. He didn’t know if they would meet resistance on the way to the Pope, but he sure hoped they didn’t. Newt took a small knife from one of the racks, having never trained with a weapon before. Everyone knows how to use a knife.

The three men put on hooded cloaks so as to remain inconspicuous and unidentified in the village. Thomas grasped Newt’s hand. It was soft and warm and _safe_ , and Thomas took refuge in it. He wanted none of this to have happened, he just wanted to feel this beautiful hand and love it, and feel his beautiful boyfriend and love him. He was sick of the feeling of danger, of fear, and Newt made it all go away.

Footsteps clattered on the cobbled streets of Morriville as the trio made their way to the Great Chapel looming overhead. The streets were beautiful, the stones even and clean and large. They had been lain many hundreds of years ago, before even Castle Redania had been thought of. The stones had been worn down from use, from the horse and carriages that trundled along daily for centuries.

As they began to ascend the hill on which the Great Chapel lay, the moon began to dip. Night was coming to an end, and with it, the assault upon the monarchy. The Great Chapel was filled with candles and lanterns, shining, a beacon in the town. The doors, as per usual, stood wide open, and Thomas felt once more that peculiar feeling of being swallowed up by the grand structure. It was disconcerting, and he gripped Newt’s hand ever tighter, feeling the blond reciprocate.

They walked past the many rows of seats which, only a few days ago, had been filled with a cheering crowd for the coronation. Thomas could almost pinpoint where Newt had sat with Janson, and further along, where he had spotted Minho and Gally with Brenda. It was eerily quiet now, nothing but the breathing and footsteps of the still-cloaked figures audible.

Thomas’ breath hitched in his throat when he saw her. Pope Paige was standing, seemingly awaiting them, where she had only days ago bestowed the crown unto him. She was dressed in her usual regal garments – a flowing white dress with a black stole across her shoulders. She smiled when she saw that Thomas had noticed her. Her hair was in a tight bun, and she looked older than ever. The flickering flames of the many candles in the room highlighted the wrinkles on her face, and made her seem eerily like a witch.

“Your majesty, what a pleasant surprise.”

Thomas was wary. She was an enemy, but she was far cleverer than any of her lackeys. He would not allow himself to be swayed by her corrupt words.

“Are you here to pray? To… repent your sins, perhaps?”

“You know damn well why I’m here.”

“Ah.” Thomas was standing just metres away for her now. “Would you perhaps like to hear my story, then?”

“No.”

The Pope smiled. “Oh, but I think you ought to.” Thomas removed his hood, and Newt and Jorge followed suit. “You see, and this will surprise you, it all started with your mother. Lovely woman. Almost a shame she died. I would much rather her than you and your… brat sister.”

Thomas refused the bait. Paige was nothing, she was insignificant, she was just trying to rile him up, make him do something stupid. She smiled sweetly and continued her story.

“When she died, your father was distraught. They were very much in love. And he came here to pray, to ask for guidance. I saw him almost every day for a year.”

“We fell in love. I admit, I was infatuated. He was so strong, and clever, and handsome. But he would always refuse me, you see. He would say such nonsense as ‘I don’t want love’ and ‘My heart died when my wife died.’ Absolute nonsense. Disgusting.”

“Well, a woman can only take so much, you see. I asked him to marry me. Straight out. He was in confession, and I sensed that he needed me. So I asked him if he wanted to be with me forever – and what a match we would be! Pope and king! We would be able to rule all of the lands, divine power and mortal power together! I knew he would say yes; he wouldn’t be so foolish as to say no.”

“But he refused me. He denied me. He said that he wasn’t in love, that I – that I had fabricated the whole thing! It was ludicrous, and from that day on, I grew to hate this royal family, this ‘monarchy’ that had set themselves up as rulers, because of their bloodline! It was ridiculous. It is ridiculous.”

Thomas shuddered. “So you had my father killed, and you tried to kill me.”

“Boy, it only takes one look to see that you are a weak ruler. You’re soft. You’re stupid, and weak, and rely on others to save you, like your filthy peasant boyfr-“

Crack. Thomas whipped his mace out and struck the bitch in the face. She collapsed to the ground, laughing menacingly. Blood dribbled out of her mouth onto the black and white marble floor. Her skull had partially caved in, just below her eye socket, but she was alive.

“You… can’t… even –“

Thomas raised his weapon and brought it down on her face again. It smashed her nose and upper jaw. He attacked her again, bringing the mace down as hard as he could, this time destroying her right eye. The Pope began to scream from pain. Thomas let her. She deserved all the pain in the world. She couldn’t open her mouth, and the screams were choked with blood. Thomas lifted the spiked mace again, panting heavily, and brought it down on her forehead. It caved in and crushed the brain behind it, killing the traitor Pope. He hit her once more, and the left side of her skull was crushed. He hit her again, this time destroying her chin. He hit her again and again, smashing and pulverizing and revelling in the death. Jorge came up behind him and tried to pull him away, but he just kept smashing her face. It was unrecognisable now, just a pulp. Still he attacked it desperately, Jorge dragging him away.

Thomas started crying. He had blood splattered all over his face, and he felt repulsed by it. It was disgusting. It smelt, and it was sticky, and he tried to scratch it off, desperately clawing at his face.

“Tommy!”

It was as if he was in another room, hearing things through a door. Maybe he was imprisoned in this blood. He continued to rake his nails across his face, needing to get the red stuff off. He wanted to throw up, and he dry retched.

“Tommy!”

Who was that? The world swirled before him, and yet the blood was still there, pungent. He had to get it off. It was burning into him, he was sure.

“Tommy, stop! Please!”

It was Newt. Thomas stopped clawing, trying to find Newt. He needed his saving angel. Where had he gone? Was he even here, or was he just another voice in his head? His tears continued to fall down his face, and he could feel their journey, feel them slide down his skin, make their way into his mouth, salty and wet.

A hand came up and brushed away a tear. Thomas’ eyes followed the hand, finding the arm, then finding the body to which it was attached. And at the top of that body was Newt’s worried face.

“Can you hear me, Tommy?”

Thomas nodded. He was saved, his Newt was here.

“Tommy let’s – let’s go.”

Thomas stood up. He suddenly noticed that there was no blood on his face. It was gone. He was free. Newt pulled him in to a tight embrace. It was finally over.

His mouth was still quivering. He couldn’t believe that it was over. The pain was gone. Thomas would finally be able to grow old, get married to Newt, love Newt. He loved Newt.

Thomas looked Newt deep in the eyes. They were beautiful – he remembered that from the first day that they went riding. They walked together, Jorge leading, Newt and Thomas behind, still embracing, out the front of the Great Chapel. The sun began to rise, painting the sky a million shades of light pinks and oranges, purples and yellow.

Newt’s tearful face became more than a face: it became an angelic canvas for the sun to paint on. The tears reflected the shining brilliance of the sun, as his face was doused with beauty.

Thomas leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. Two silhouettes against the sky. The kiss tasted of salt and happiness and sweetness. It tasted like safety and comfort and just a tinge of lust. The king smiled. He was in love with his saving angel, in love with the blond stable boy, in love with Newt.

The sun dawned, and a new day had begun.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been about a year since I posted my last fic, so I figured, why do homework when I can do something completely unnecessary? That's how this one came about, I hope you guys liked it, if you did, drop it a kudos, or even better a comment!


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